Fuming

"Gored beyond all measure, nothing sensible. Everything ugly and finished" -Charles Bukowski

Why do I cnostantly feel the need to hide my emotions when those feelings are not pleasant ones. Why do I have to hide from my pain? Why do I have to lower my voice? Why can I not just be able to feel exactly what I am feeling for once? I am sick of being guilty for having vicious thoughts run around my mind. I am sick of being ashamed of my own emotions. Maybe I do not always want to smile. Maybe I do not always want to sit in a pretty manner and hold back what I really want to say. I can accept that rage, anger, and wrath are human emotions. Maybe somedays I feel like a rabid dog and I need to let it out otherwise I know that it will build and I do not want to explode one day. I do not want to do vile things outside of my mind.
Self-control they tell me. It is self-control I need. I am barely a fucking adult and maybe some of the things I have been through make me pissed off beyond sensibility. Instead of taking it out on the world I take it out on myself physically. I cut for almost six years of my life instead of just screaming. Just kicking something. Just releasing it all.
I will be the first to admit that the cutting was not healthy. I knew what I was doing was wrong but it felt so fucking good. That rush and relase of pain (even though it was only temporary) felt beyond ecstacy.
"Do you think I relish the fact that I have to act like Mary Sunshine 24/7 so I can be considered a lady? I'm the Marcia fucking Brady of the Upper East Side, and sometimes I want to kill myself. So there's your psychoanalysis, Dr. Freud." - Kathryn (Cruel Intentions)
The scars made me think of how I overcame things in my life. It made me feel as if I had an ounce of freedom. That maybe for once in my life I was able to control something. I have realized now that the cutting is not healthy. IT took a long time to realize this fact. Yes, I still want to (more than ever now). It makes me believe that I am strong and I can learn how to overcome ordeals and tradgies in my life without resorting to the fresh cold metallic grace of the razor. As you can tell it is on my mind, but I sit here letting it out instead of doing it.
Now I am ranting, but I feel better. With eyes shut tightly, I can actually sit here and express the way I feel without censoring myself. It is a better kind of freedom than cutting. It really is.
"Oh what a tangled web we weave,
When first we practise to deceive!" -Sir Walter Scott
How many lies do I have to hear in such a short period of time? I have become a person who believes that the majority, the vast majority, of lies are completely unacceptable. Lies hurt. Lies ruin. Lies build. When one lie is let out other lies pour out to keep the initial lie going. What is the point? Then, one ends up hiding from and covering up so many things? How do you love a liar? What is true then? What was real? What was not?
Better question: How much pain can someone withstand before the breaking point is reach and the 'right choice', that was there the whole time of course, becomes the choice that person makes?